


Season One Rewatch Drabbles

by damnslippyplanet



Series: Slippy Writes Drabbles, Apparently [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6480043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnslippyplanet/pseuds/damnslippyplanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles for the Hannibal rewatch, to be posted more-or-less a quarter-season at a time.  This batch is for season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aperitif / Amuse-Bouche / Potage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episodes 1.01 - 1.03: Aperitif, Amuse-Bouche, and Potage. Featuring: My Abigail Hobbs feelings x 2, bookending a brief moment of Will Graham Having A Nice Day.

**[Week 1 | Apéritif](http://damnslippyplanet.tumblr.com/post/141732843371/hannibal-rewatch-100-word-drabble-week-1) **

Odd, strained breakfasts aren’t uncommon in the days after Dad goes hunting. Abigail cuts a pancake into tiny bites and shoves them around the plate in a semblance of appetite.

Elise shared her granola bar on the train. It was dry and stuck in Abigail’s throat. She wonders if Elise had dinner, before… Well, before.

She’s scraping her tortured leftovers into the trash when she hears a car. And then a chair toppling. And then a scream. She turns, and sees, and closes her eyes. Maybe, if she doesn’t look, he’ll do it quickly. Maybe it won’t hurt too much.

* * *

**[Week 2 | Amuse-Bouche](http://damnslippyplanet.tumblr.com/post/141948104411/hannibal-rewatch-100-word-drabble-week-2) **

Winston’s settling in nicely. Will watches the pack array themselves for the night; Winston’s found a place near Buster and they both seem content enough.

“The mirrors in your mind can reflect the best of yourself,” Hannibal had said, and Will had suppressed a bark of laughter. Put on the spot he couldn’t have said what the best of him might be.

Here, in the dark solitary quiet, the thought is more comforting. He tries it on for size: “This is the best of me, here.” Peace: soft breathing, wordless companionship.

He smiles, with no one to see his reflection.

* * *

**[Week 3 | Potage](http://damnslippyplanet.tumblr.com/post/142341586701/hannibal-rewatch-100-word-drabble-week-3-potage) **

“I don’t know, honey,” the nurse says, fake-sweet in a way that roils in Abigail’s stomach.  “I only know what’s here on your chart about _you_.” **  
**

It’s answer enough, even without the way the nurse’s eyes avoid her, focusing on some speck of lint on the bedsheets.  Pretty. Brunette. _If you were ten years younger my dad might have sent me after you_ , she thinks, and her entire body tries to heave.

They’re dead, then. She supposes she already knew that, but she can’t quite feel it yet.

It’ll come, she imagines. She curls into herself to wait for it.


	2. Œuf / Coquilles / Entrée

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episodes 1.04 - 1.06. Featuring: Hannibal's Gonna Hannibal, my Winston feelings, and my Beverly is #notForeating feelings

**Week 4 |Œuf**

When he thinks back (during an endless succession of days behind glass with little to do but consider how Will Graham happened to him), Hannibal thinks he’d likely have settled on a variant of the framing plan anyway.

But he’s fairly certain that the first instant it flashed into his mind was when Will sat across from him, trying and failing to form words, finally half-whispering: “Guilty.”

And Hannibal  _ knows  _ that a few moments later when Will said “I know who I am,” he’d seen straight through the lie.

He’d thought:  _ No, you don’t _ .

He’d thought:  _ I can use that _ .

* * *

 

**Week 5 | Coquilles**

Winston pads along after the large black Not-Dog as it follows his human.  The other dogs don’t follow; they don’t like the Not-Dog.  They don’t like the way their human smells lately. They don’t like him leaving at night.

Winston is so new to the pack that his human just smells like  _ his _ , and the Not-Dog is part of him. And Winston is a  _ goodboy _ and  _ goodboys _ don’t let their humans go out alone in the dark.

Besides, Winston isn’t entirely confident yet that this new human he’s found will always come back.  So he follows patiently through the dark.

* * *

 

**Week 6 | Entrée**

It’s a cool old building. Bev’s itching to get inside, as much to find out what kind of abandoned astronomy shit might be left  in there, as to get to whatever the Ripper’s left.

Jack’s pacing, coiled tight, by the time Graham finally arrives. A phone rings plaintively somewhere inside. 

Bev steps into the big open room and just for a second, a chilly shivering feeling washes over her.  _ Someone walking over my grave _ , her aunt would have said.  She tries to shrug it off and get the job done, but the feeling lingers long after they leave the observatory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can come play with / yell at me over on [Tumblr](http://damnslippyplanet.tumblr.com).


	3. Sorbet / Fromage / Trou Normand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episodes 1.07 - 1.9. Featuring: Emotional Idiots In Love and Failing To Use Their Words

[Week 7 | Sorbet](http://damnslippyplanet.tumblr.com/post/143782030268/hannibal-rewatch-100-word-drabble-week-7-sorbet)

There’s a spot of blood on Hannibal’s shirtsleeves and, for once, no reason to hide it. 

Hannibal answers Jack’s questions mechanically and absently, watching Will as Will watches him.  Will says nothing and barely moves from his chosen shadows. He might be either a patient predator or its petrified prey. 

He’s seen  _ something _ , and Hannibal is uncertain what disparate pieces of information may be slotting into place in his mind like the tumblers of a lock. 

Afterwards, Jack drives them back to Quantico in near-total silence.  The blood-smell permeates the air. Will never says a word, and never looks away.

* * *

 

[Week 8 | Fromage (a matched pair of same-event-different-POV drabbles)](http://damnslippyplanet.tumblr.com/post/144087779835/hannibal-rewatch-100-word-drabble-week-8)

Hannibal arrives at his office at seven, once the workmen are gone for the day.  The smell of strangers in his space assaults his nose; he plays his harpsichord for precisely ten minutes as a balm.

He opens the drapes and turns on the lights and sets out a bottle.

He had called Will as dutifully as his other patients - a week off, unexpected, apologies. He’d imagined he tasted reluctance through the phone line. Wishful thinking, most likely.

For Will to show up would be, arguably, rude. A boundary transgressed.

Nonetheless. Two glasses, and he waits to open the wine.

 

 

He was just going to drive by, but there’s a light.

He shouldn’t go in - Hannibal’s taking some time off after Budge, the light’s surely nothing more than a late-working contractor replacing blood-soaked carpet.

He’s almost sure it’s something like relief in Hannibal’s eyes that he’s there, and he’s almost sure it’s not just his own reflecting back.

It’s 7:30 and this is where he’s meant to be.

He takes his seat and a glass of wine and a deep breath.

The room smells like fresh carpet and fresh paint and brand-new surfaces waiting to be scratched and bloodied.   
  
  


* * *

  
[Week 9 | Trou Normand](http://damnslippyplanet.tumblr.com/post/144443385903/hannibal-rewatch-drabble-week-9-trou-normand)   
  


By the time Will leaves, Hannibal’s fairly certain he won’t be telling Jack or Alana anything he shouldn’t.  More certain than he is about Abigail herself.  Will’s had practice hiding his inner life from prying eyes.

Two breaches in his solitude, now. Weak points, and a complicated web to weave to shore them up. He’s been careful to avoid exactly this kind of entanglement.  

No witnesses until now; no survivors.

No excitement for so long; no thrill of uncertainty.

He returns the scalpel to its proper place. He may slice one or both of them open yet, but not today.

 


	4. Buffet Froid / Rôti / Relevés / Savoureux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episodes 1.10 - 1.13: Buffet Froid / Rôti / Relevés / Savoureux. Featuring: Everything being terrible, basically. Georgia, Abel, Abigail, Will - no one's having a good time as the end of season approaches. Join me back here soon for Season 2 drabbles, in which, I imagine, everything will continue to be terrible for a while.

**Week 10 | Buffet Froid**

 “If you can hear me, you’re alive.”

It seems just as likely that the man is dead like her, and just doesn’t know it yet. Someone should tell him. Maybe she’s supposed to tell him.

The-thing-that-was-once-Georgia-and-is-now-something-else stands, poised for flight but not moving yet, behind a stand of trees.  She watches the man make a slow circle, scanning but not seeing.

They never see her. It’s part of being dead, like always being cold, like her face not being her own.

Before she can remember how to make words, he’s gone.  She follows on feet so cold they’ve stopped hurting.

* * *

 

**Week 11 | Rôti**

“Are you the Ripper?”

Abel knows the answer before he asks the question.  Or at least, some part of him does.  

There was another dining room, in another life.  There was someone else who fell, twitching, to silence not unlike Will Graham’s. He’s almost sure he remembered her name a few minutes ago.  Some part of him might remember it again, later.

The man across the table from him assesses him: silent, watchful, considering.

A notion crawls uneasily through his mind: This might be the first time in years that he hasn’t been the most dangerous thing in the room.

* * *

 

**Week 12 | Relevés**

It sounds stupid even as she’s saying it: “Highest point in Minnesota,” like that’s impressive.

She might have tried to explain, if it were Dr. Lecter in the next seat.  That if nothing else, a weekend spent in the mountains would have been a weekend not spent helping her dad do terrible things.  A weekend no one would die for having a specific type of hair or a familiar laugh.

Will Graham wouldn’t understand.  He acts like he might, but he wouldn’t. He’s not the same kind of killer they are. She stares out the window until he falls asleep.

* * *

 

**Week 13 | Savoureux**

The rain falls; the car eats up the miles.  Will sleeps, and Hannibal ticks off possibilities.

There are drugs; the available supply not precisely what he’d prefer, but they’d do.  Will might not even wake up for the needle. It could be considered a mercy,

He could call Jack quietly, from a rest stop.  Plead kidnapping; watch them take Will away.

He could simply park the car and walk away into a new life; leave Will to his own fate. Miss seeing the moment that Will _knows_.

Hannibal drives, steady and law-abiding, as the options fall away behind them both.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang with me, as always, [over on Tumblr](https://damnslippyplanet.tumblr.com), or occasionally I turn up on Twitter as @slippytweets.


End file.
